Dormed Blood
by Batmanda
Summary: There wasn't really a category for this, considering it's not really a fanfic. It's a fictional story of when a girl first arrives at a new boarding school. Rated T for blood.
1. Pretty Emos

A/N: Disclaimer: This is not a fan-fiction. This is original work. I take full credit for this piece. I am the protagonist and this is a worst-case scenario of when I first arrived at this boarding school I just transferred to. I really enjoyed writing this. I wrote a similar piece, same basic storyline, before I came here. But now that the school year is almost over, I re-wrote it to fit the school.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Rated T for a graphic bloody scene in the 3rd chapter.

I sit on the cold brick stairs, reclining against the flower box. My brownish red hair hangs loosely around my shoulders. Green eyes dash across the tattered page of an overly used hard cover copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban. Lost in a world of fantasy, I can't see the pages or words in front of me, but the world they portray.

I barely notice the prissy, gossipy girl waltz up and sit next to me. She crosses her legs like she thinks it makes a difference. I try to ignore her, but she blows a big gum bubble.

"Can I help you?" She's pulled me out of my reality and I've plummeted into a world where I don't belong. She sucks her gum back into her mouth, making smacking noises and breathing a hot, fruity smell my way.

"What book is that? It looks real old." She reaches up and strokes her brown hair as if to say _look at what pretty, long, shiny hair you don't have_.

I look up at her and she stares back blankly. "Do you really care? I highly doubt it. You probably don't even know who I am, much less care about what I'm actually doing. If any of your friends walked by right now, you would deny ever even talking to me." She frantically looked over her shoulder, as if she was nervous about being caught doing something illegal. "I am ashamed to a part of the same species as people like you. So if you would kindly go on your way, I would appreciate it. I want to get back to my book. Have a nice day."

I turn my head back to my book, and watch her out of the corner of my eye. She finally gets what I said and slowly stands. Sauntering off, her hips sway more than natural. She walks past a tall boy wearing all black. She says something to him that I can't hear. She passes him and he flips her off behind her back. I smile in his direction, but he's too far away to see it.

Out of the mood to read, I close my book. I adjust my floor length skirt and watch the crimson sun drift past the trees for a moment. Subconsciously I watch the boy. He looks up, brushing the long black and red highlighted hair from his eyes revealing the black eye makeup contrasting beautifully with the bright red lipstick. His black hooded sweater reads "MCR" in dripping red letters. The chains on his tight black pants jangling with every step he takes. He looks at me and I realize, with a twang in my stomach region, that I'm openly staring at him. I turn quickly to run up the stairs and trip over my high heeled boots. I swing my hand out to break my fall, and he grabs it. In one swift movement he pulls me onto my feet and I fall into his arms. His warmth overpowers me and I bask in his embrace. He releases me and my eyes snap open.

"You okay?" He asks, taking a step back.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Thanks." I manage to stutter out. He hands me my book and flashes a lipstick stained smile. I return the favor, "Thanks again," I say.

"No problem. But if you're going to wear those sexy boots, you're going to have to learn to walk in them. Be careful." He gives a small laugh and winks at me as he strolls to the boys' dorm. My legs feel hot and threaten to give out from underneath me. I reach out for the door handle and open it slowly. I close it behind me, rip off my boots, and take the two flights of stairs two at a time all the way to my room.

Don't worry, this story is complete. No cliffhangers but for as long as it takes the next page to load!


	2. Preppy Trash Talkers

A/N: I own this whole story and I take credit for the whole thing. Go me! And I only own one character, myself, and the other characters are based on people who go to my school. Names have not been changed. Muahahaha! I hate that kid…

I burst through the door and the pile of giggling girls on the floor scream.

"What are you doing?" my roommate asks.

"Nothing." I giggle and throw my book on my bed.

"Can you go somewhere else for a while? We're doing something." My roommate says loudly. Her friends continue to giggle and gibber in Korean non-sense.

"Fine, I'll go to the PX then…" I grab my laptop, charger, and keys and slam the door behind me. Damned Koreans, only they can ruin a perfect moment.

My keys hanging off of my belt loop jingle against the wad of key chains with every step down the stairs. Just before I turn the corner to descend the second flight of stairs, I catch a garbled Asian conversation. They include some English words, but I can't make out what they're saying through the Taiwanese. I give up on trying listening in, and I hear my name in the midst of the gibberish. I step out from behind the wall and the girls look up, wave at each other, and head down opposite sides of the hall.

"What the heck?" I say out loud. I laugh at myself. I've never said that before I came here. ESL students pick up on funny thinks like that. And I've picked it up off of them.

I descend the stairs, and open the door. The cold, brisk air bites my face. I shiver and watch dusk fall behind the trees. The street is deserted and silent. I cross it and open the door to the PX. It's dark and empty. Looks like someone forgot to lock the door after the lunch shift, and no ones come to work.

Basking in the silence and treat of being alone, I lock the door behind me. No one will ever know I was here. I take a seat at the bar, and plug in my laptop. On the floor under the stools I notice a piece of paper. It looks like a note. Hoping it's in English, I open it. Score! It looks like a guy's and a girl's handwriting. The paper reads a name in the upper right hand corner. "_Igor"._ My heart plummets. He's Russian.

I start to read and my eyes begin to sting with tears. He's writing with a girl and they're talking about me. She calls me irritating and stuck up. He agrees and they both keep bashing on me. Talking about how I don't have any friends, and I always talk in class about things that no one cares about. That I'm new and I need to be put in my place.

I tear the note into shreds and toss them in the general direction of the garbage can. They scatter everywhere. That's ridiculous. I can't stand preps. I think he was talking to the girl that always gets in trouble for making out with boys in the weight room. But I can't be sure.

I sit back at the bar and turn on my laptop. I pull up my usual blog site, and try to see if I can find anything interesting to read. I come across the girl from the stairs' MySpace page. Her latest bulletin says that she hates me and she wishes that I would mind my own business and learn how to cope with other people, rather than just telling everyone off for talking to me. Great. More tears. I bring up my picture folder and sift through the pictures. They're mostly one's I've pulled off the internet. I come across one of a forearm, openly bleeding. I'm not sure if it's real. It looks like a picture taken in a hospital. Pretty cool looking actually.

I reach for my keychain and pull off the mini utility knife. I wonder…

I keep looking through my pictures, coming across bloody razors, bleeding hands, and a girl soaked in her own blood, laying and the floor next to a shining dagger.

I really do have all those fun pictures on my computer, and then some! Lol, I love them…


	3. Blood Stripes

A/N: The boy from the courtyard is my real crush… I am madly in love with him. This is my fantasy…

It can't hurt that much, can it? People do it all the time. Right, just a little knick, nothing big. I extend the blade of my little knife. It's a shiny little razor blade. I roll up the sleeve of my left arm, and slowly take the blade in my right hand. What could it hurt? Can't be any worse than a welt, and I don't mind that at all. I take the blade and softly graze the surface of the top of my arm. It barely makes a scratch. I push a little harder and I draw a bit of blood. That doesn't hurt at all. What's the big deal?

I enjoy watching the blood fill the wound, but it doesn't do more than that. I take the small razor and run it through the cut again, deepening it and making the blood drip onto the counter. I wipe it up with my sleeve. Again I watch the blood drip. But it stops. I deepen and extend the cut a bit further. Now it stings a bit, but it's still enjoyable. I elongate the wound so it's now a full circle around my forearm.

I continue to make circles all the way down my arm, now I've got bloody stripes. I watch the blood form a little puddle on the counter. I'll clean it up later. Someone bangs on the door, I jump and my hand slips. I gouge a hole in my wrist close to my hand. The blood squirts out, hitting the wall. I drop the blade and cover my wrist with my other hand. Blood is still dripping through. My vision goes fuzzy and I fall to the floor. The door of the PX opens, I hear a yell, and I open my eyes.

A boy with long black hair and lots of makeup sees me and runs over. He drops the key and his books next to me.

"Someone call Miss D! Amanda's hurt!" He yells at the other people coming in. He grabs my wrist and picks me up, cradling me in his arms. "It's okay. You're going to be alright. I promise." I hear his whisper in my ear, then, I hear nothing at all.

Oh Andre, you saved me! I love you too! Lol, I'm so pathetic. I enjoyed this story, I hope you did too. Review please!

Just as a side note, this is the happiest story I've ever written. Go me!


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